In Retrospect
by Wilsy
Summary: Hermione Granger is dead. Draco Malfoy, begrudging ministry employee, is given the duty of examining her memories in order to obtain valuable information that may lead to the downfall of another Dark uprising. Along his journey through her mind, Draco finds himself changed forever. Dark D/Hr.
1. Chapter 1

_Hermione Granger is dead. Draco Malfoy, begrudging ministry employee, is given the duty of examining her memories in order to obtain valuable information that may lead to the downfall of another Dark uprising. Along his journey through her mind, Draco finds himself changed forever. _

_Dark themes, post-mortem love. D/Hr. Not a fluffy, cheerful fic. 6 years post-Hogwarts, non-epilogue compliant. _

_Rated T for language and dark themes. _

_Lend me your thoughts. My other two fics will be updated soon, I'm sorry for the wait._

* * *

Hermione runs through the forest, heart pounding. She takes little notice as thick brush grabs at her clothing, scrapes at her skin. It does not occur to her that the tree limbs slapping against her face_ hurt_. All she can think is _runrunrun_, because she is being pursued by far more Dark wizards than she can handle. Apparition is out of the question; there seems to be sort of ward against it in place.

She hears her pursuers gaining ground and chances a look over her shoulder to gauge the distance between them. As she does, her weight shifts, and she stumbles to her knees. Just like that, she knows it's over. With a resigned smirk on her face, feeling as though she's won because _she will not let the enemy have this_, she presses her wand to her temple. "Avada kedavra," she whispers.

Hermione Granger dies.

* * *

Draco Malfoy wandered towards his office in the Department of Magical Post-Mortem Information Recovery. It was a new branch of the ministry, founded upon the extremely disturbing need to recover memories pertaining to the current war from the dead. After Voldemort's downfall, a new darkness arose over Wizarding Britain; old Death Eaters had banded together to finish his work. This time, they worked in such a vengeful fervor that there were dozens of casualties daily. In an attempt to end the madness, the Ministry created this department in hopes that the victims' memories could be examined and killers could be identified.

As Malfoy stopped in at the break room for his morning coffee, he noticed that there was something much more panicked in the air that day. Ministry workers seemed more harried and frantic, and reporters were filling the halls to capacity. _'I wonder what could have happened this time? Maybe Potty bit the dust,'_ he mused inwardly. He grabbed the arm of the next passerby and tugged them into the room. He glanced the stricken face of Percy Weasley over once before deeming him an adequate informant. "Weasley, what in Merlin's name is happening today?"

Percy blanched before answering. "Hermione," he struggled to whisper. "Killed last night. Her body was strung up naked in Diagon Alley with the Dark Mark carved into her abdomen," he let out a strangled sob before turning and dashing from the room.

Malfoy stood in silence, stunned. "Granger?" he said aloud to no one. "Granger's dead?" His face turned an awful pallor as his earlier musing about Harry Potter hit him like a punch. He hadn't been far off the mark with that one. Feeling sick, he shuffled towards his office, expecting to receive more information shortly.

Along his way, he thought of Granger. After Voldemort had been killed, they had both returned to Hogwarts to complete their proper education. Though they had never become close friends, she had defended him time and again from the harassment of his vengeful peers. Occasionally they sat together in silence in the library, each taking comfort in the other's quiet presence. They hadn't remained in touch after school, but he once got an unsigned Christmas card that he just _knew_ was from her.

_"Draco,_

_Nobody should face the holidays alone. I regret that things progressed the way they did for you. Perhaps next Christmas will be better. Perhaps next Christmas, I will have the courage to come visit you. Make the most of it, it's a beautiful thing to be alive."_

Attached was a small book containing uplifting Muggle poetry. How very like Granger; a book full of Muggle sentiments. There was no way it wasn't her. Unfortunately, he'd never find out if she would work up the courage to visit him.

He nudged open the door of his office and glanced warily at the paper airplane hovering ominously over his desk. _'If this is what I think it is…'_ he frowned, hoping against hope that he had not been assigned Hermione Granger's case. He set his coffee on the desk and held out his hand. The airplane lazily drifted into his open palm and unfolded.

_"Mr. Malfoy,_

_It is my utmost regret to inform you that you have yet another high profile case. Please see me in my office at ten o'clock so that I may debrief you of your task. _

_Regretfully yours,_

_Justin Finch-Fletchley."_

"Fuck," Malfoy groaned. There was no getting out of this one. When he'd accepted the Ministry's offer of a job assisting with the war effort, he hadn't signed up for this. "That's what I get for agreeing to something without the details."

He checked the clock. Ten to ten. He sighed and gathered up his quill and a roll of parchment, sure there would be plenty of notes to take, and made his way out of his office. When he got to the door, he rapped the glass pane sharply twice before walking inside. Justin Finch-Fletchley sat staring into space, a disturbed look on his face. Malfoy stood for a minute or two before he was noticed.

"Oh, Malfoy, yes, sit down," Justin mumbled, startled out of his thoughts.

"Where were you just then?" Malfoy asked, sitting across from him.

"The void, Malfoy. Staring into the void." Draco quirked an eyebrow at his curious response. "It's beginning to feel like we're drowning, isn't it? Hermione Granger, of all people…" his voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat. "Yes, well, time for business, I suppose."

Malfoy unrolled his parchment and readied his quill, then began copying down his colleague's halting words. "…found this morning at four, hanging by her ankles from the Flourish and Blotts sign. She'd been stripped naked, and the Dark Mark was carved crudely into her abdomen with a knife. The cuts all over her body have been determined to be from her own attempt to escape her killers. It looks as though she'd been running through a thickly wooded region. Leaves were found tangles in her hair, and she had a few thorns stuck in her skin. Most unusually, we were able to collect all her memories."

"_All_ of them?" Draco gasped, interrupting Justin's speech. That was nearly unheard of; normally, they were only able to catch a few minutes, the final moments of the victim.

"All of them," he nodded gravely. "As I'm sure you've pieced together by now, you've been assigned the examination. You're our best, Malfoy. You're the only one we could trust with this case." After a moment, he sighed and reached across the table, patting Malfoy on the arm. "I'm sorry, mate. I know you two were friendly at the end of school."

Malfoy nodded, swallowing the bile that was rising in his throat. Justin wordlessly handed him a large bottle containing Hermione Granger's swirling memories. "Solving this is the best justice we can do her, Malfoy. You'll figure this out." Draco nodded again, accepting the memories, and returned to his office.

He sat in silence for a few minutes, remembering a few of his various exchanges with the girl. There had been plenty of times they had exchanged harsh words, though they mostly came from him. When he recalled the time she had been tortured in his own home, he pressed his fingers to his temples in an attempt to stop the memories.

He glared at the bottle of memories swirling on his desk. Resignedly, he grabbed his pensieve and set it next to the bottle. Twisting off the stopped, Draco placed the tip of his wand into the bottle and tugged out a single, silvery strand and placed it in the pensieve. He contemplated it for a moment, studying the wispy thing, and reached out his hand. He'd barely touched the substance before-

Draco stood in a thick forest. He could hear someone panting, sprinting through the underbrush as quickly as they could. He dashed after the person, and after a fleeting glimpse of brown, curly hair, he knew it was Granger. He put on an extra burst of speed, catching up to her bit by bit, until they were running together. He listened to her gasping, desperate for air, desperate to live. She turned to look over her shoulder, and suddenly, Draco found himself running alone. He stopped, looking around.

Ten feet behind him, Hermione was on her hands and knees, panting hard. She must have fallen. He scrambled over to her, aware that her assailants were closing in quickly. He watched for them, sparing her only a brief glance. Draco did a double-take when he realized that she'd been crouched there, smirking, the tip of her wand at her temple. He looked onward in horror as the Death Eaters closed in around her, and his eyes widened even more when he realized what she was about to do.

Hermione closed her eyes, still smirking, and whispered something. A flash of green light appeared out of her wand, and Draco was jolted back into his office.

Panting hard, Draco leaned over the edge of his chair and was violently ill. He sat back once he was finished and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his robe before tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He was going to need a drink.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for all the lovely reviews. In response to __**Diane Potter**__, the death eaters were after Hermione because she had been leading the resistance against them. Lend me your thoughts again, please review!_

Draco finished reviewing the memory for the third time before he leaned over his desk and began penning his report. There was little to say as he could not determine what happened to her after she had cast the Unforgivable. After writing furiously for a few minutes, he leaned back, shaking a cramp from his hand. He gave his report a final glance-over, re-bottled Hermione's memory, and started down the hall to turn everything back in to Justin.

This time, he didn't knock before he opened Justin's door, and immediately regretted doing so. He had barged in on Justin Finch-Fletchley embracing a sobbing Ginny Weasley, his own cheeks stained with tears. Draco instantly backpedaled, scrambling to return to the emotionless safety of the hallway, but was too late. "Draco," Justin called. "What is it?"

Ginny turned and looked at him, wiping her tears on her sleeve. Draco rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably before extending the hand with his report and bottle of Hermione's memories. "Er," he said eloquently. "I just wanted to give these to you, didn't mean to interrupt." He thrust the items into Justin's hands and turned, once again trying to escape the uncomfortable scene.

"Wait, Malfoy," Ginny put her hand on his shoulder. "Did you- Are those Hermione's memories?"

"Yes." Draco shifted his weight from one foot to the other, vastly uncomfortable.

"Did… Did she suffer?" Ginny's wide eyes looked desperate.

"Well, er, I guess that depends on how you mean 'suffer.'" Ginny's eyes widened even further at his admission.

"What?"

Draco inhaled deeply and slowly, steadying himself. He closed his eyes for one beat, then two, and when he opened them he felt restored nearly to his normal self. "She was terrified, but her death was quick and painless. She Avada'd herself when she knew she would be caught. It's all in the report." Once again, Draco turned to leave, and, once again, he was stopped.

"She killed herself?" Justin coughed.

"Yes. If you'll just read that report there, you'll know all the details."

"Listen, Draco. I know you were hoping this would be over quickly, but I'm going to have to dash those hopes. It's a miracle her memories were recovered… I need you to go through all of them, see if she had any knowledge that could be of use in the war. Just separate everything you can into subcategories, like personal memories or war-related, et cetera. I know it's a lot to ask, but-"

"Fine," Draco huffed. "I'll take care of it. There's years' worth of information here, I hope you know. Don't expect this to be done quickly."

"Of course not," conceded Justin. "Consider this your priority assignment- anything else in your inbox is to be directed to someone else along the chain, understand?"

Draco nodded curtly, unhappy about the turn of events, and snatched the bottle back out of Justin's hands. This time, when he turned to leave, he was not stopped.

* * *

Draco watched as Hermione settled down in front of her fireplace with a cat and a thick book, her legs folded beneath herself in a way that appeared supremely comfortable. She sat in silence for a few minutes, reading peacefully, before placing one of her hands over her mouth. Her expression was troubled. Draco drew closer to her, trying to read her face, just as a few tears began trailing down her cheeks. Revolted, he took a step back. What on earth was the bint crying about?

He dropped into a crouch and shuffled closer to her, finally catching the title of her book. _Pride and Prejudice?_ What a ridiculous book to be crying over. It ended all fine and well, didn't it?

The cat mewled up at Hermione, displeased with the tears dripping onto its head. Draco smiled in approval at the creature. "Oh, it's just like you not to understand, Ralph." Draco jumped back, startled, at Hermione's words. _Ralph?_ She named her cat _Ralph_? What horrible taste. He watched as she dropped the hand away from her mouth to stroke the animal between its shoulders.

Draco was preparing to eject himself from the memory, deciding it was a personal one, just as the last few had been, when a popping sound emitted from the fireplace. He glanced over, familiar with the sound of a floo call, and studied Harry Potter's face peeking out from betwixt the flames.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione looked up, startled. "What can I do for you?" She moved to kneel on the hearth. The cat stalked out of the room, disgruntled.

"We've lost sight of him again. I need something, anything." Draco move closer to the scene, wondering who it was Potter had lost sight of.

"Oh," Hermione worried her lower lip, obviously racking her brain for some idea. "How did he evade you? Were you detected?"

"I don't think so," Harry replied despondently. "He was there one second, and then he was gone. I don't know how he did it, we had wards up so he couldn't apparate."

"He must've used a portkey, then. I'll make some calls to the registry, but I doubt it was through any legal means. In the meantime, think of the most likely places he'll show up next."

"I don't even know where to begin," Harry sighed, looking defeated.

"Think areas riddled with Squibs and Muggle-borns. Perhaps places near the residences of blood-traitors, or any remote wizarding villages."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, will do. Thanks Hermione. You're the only one I can count on." He withdrew his head from her fire, and Hermione rocked back on her heels, nibbling her lip with concern written across her face.

Draco watched as she tossed a longing glance in the direction of her cozy seat and book before she strode over to her desk. She pulled what appeared to be a journal out of the drawer, sighing, and began to write, her quill_ scratch-scratch-scratching_ as she did so. Malfoy, of course, was leaning over her shoulder, reading as she went along. Her soft scent filled his nose every time he inhaled, and he felt a twinge of regret at not getting to know her better before it had been too late.

_"December 9,_

_ Message from Harry today. He lost our man again today. We're so close, but then he just slips through our fingers. I hope Harry can tighten the gaps in his defense, soon, though. I am so lonely here by myself. It feels empty and cold without my friends."_

Draco glanced at her curiously as she paused, seemingly lost in thought. Strangely, he felt pity for the girl, her shoulders slumped forward with what seemed a very heavy weight. He reached out, slowly, and brushed his hand against her curls, tangling his fingers there and enjoying the false closeness between them.

_"I can only imagine how it feels to have even less than I do… I think a lot about a few of my old schoolmates, Draco Malfoy in particular." _ Draco glanced at her critically before glancing back down at her words. _"I always knew he wasn't as horrible as he acted. There was something that seemed halfhearted in his manner, something that never did sit quite right with me. Of course, I never spoke to Harry and Ron about it, they never would have listened. But our last year, he and I seemed to have some sort of unspoken agreement. We were never quite friends, per se, but he was wonderful company for reading in silence."_ She paused again, reaching up to rub her neck. Draco, who had forgotten his hands in her hair, was quite alarmed when she brushed against him.

_"It's nearly Christmas, and I've heard his parents disowned him and are on the run. Rumor has it, nearly everyone's abandoned him. All his family, and most of his friends, gone. I wish I had the courage to write him, maybe invite him over to tea sometime. It's just difficult to face the thought; one year of desperate companionship still does not quite outweigh the torment of all those previous years. Perhaps I'll send him a gift anonymously; he'd never know it was me."_ Draco smirked. He'd known the moment he set eyes on the cover of that silly book. Which he never did read.

Hermione set down her quill and pushed her seat back, stuffing her journal back into a drawer and warding it. Draco made note of its location; he'd head over to her apartment and see if he couldn't retrieve it.

The memory ended with Hermione settling back down by her fireplace, her legs curled beneath her, and the book, once again, cradled in her lap.

* * *

"I need let into her apartment."

"Why?" Justin looked confused. Draco had never asked permission to enter a victim's home before.

"She kept a journal, I'm sure it's full of valuable information. I know how to take down the wards on the drawer it's kept in, too."

Justin nodded. "I'll make the call. Her apartment's been undisturbed; we've been waiting to enter until you were finished with the memories in case something like this happened."

"Good. Notify me when I can make my way over." He walked out of Justin's office, ready to depart for the evening. He'd been through her memories for nine hours that day, and he hadn't even chipped the surface of the job.

Draco was ready for that drink. Perhaps he'd dig up that book she'd sent him and take a look inside.


End file.
